WISHFUL THINKING | KA4

WISHFUL THINKING | KA4

pairings: kimi antonelli x unnamed fem! character

summary: kimi has had a bit of a thing for ollie’s best friend for a while now, only issue is, is that she’s under the impression he hates her guts.

song inspo; drive by halsey

warnings: a sprinkle of angst

wc: 2.7k

request; maybe Kimi antonelli, but just like fluff, maybe a bit of angst

It was hard to keep his eyes off her when she came to racing events. No matter what could be going on, no matter what chaos that may be ensuing— she stood out. Not to sound cliche, but Kimi often compared her presence to how rays of sunshine cut through clouds. People couldn’t help but stop and admire her.

It was no surprise that Ollie had been friends with her for so long. When getting into professional racing, it was like friends trickled through a filter. It wasn’t through any fault of their own, really. Life gets busy, schedules don’t match up, and the calls or texts eventually stop.

No matter what life had thrown at Ollie, she was by his side. There was that annoying little feeling buried deep in his chest, just below his heart that felt a bit envious at their relationship. Although Kimi was technically friends with her, it didn’t feel like enough.

He wanted more, and he knew he shouldn’t.

For a whole array of reasons. The obvious being she was Ollie’s best friend. The second, though he might be getting ambitious, is that maintaining relationships is hard in this line of work. Not impossible, that was proven on numerous occasions. But what had also been proven is that they could get messy.

Plus, he wasn’t exactly sure what the full depth of Ollie’s feelings were. He knew the English man cared for her deeply, he knew they hung out all the time, Ollie invited her to races, she would even stay at his house sometimes.

God, those nights where Kimi was invited were the worst.

He could still recall the first night he realised he was done for. Kimi had an early morning the next day so he had called it a night before anyone else, crashing in a spare room Ollie had set up for him. He had found himself looking at her throughout the night. Sure, he had always found her attractive but his throughts typically didn’t expand beyond that. It was such a simple moment, it wasn’t anything to shout at the stars in reckless abandon. Everyone had been out in the back garden for dinner when a bunny had appeared. The way her eyes had lit up, carefully walking towards it. Everyone had expected the bunny to run off at any sudden movement, but it sniffed her hand with its pink nose before cuddling into the scoop of her palm. She refused to move for two hours as everyone talked, not caring her trousers were getting stained by the damp grass. The bunny keeping her company all the while and Kimi watched as the rest of the world faded away from her.

He laid in that bed wide awake for what seemed like hours. Her laugh echoing down the hallway from the kitchen, almost taunting him and he felt his chest constrict with the sound. It was strange, like he was breathing for the first time and his chest had been hallow up until that point.

Ever since then he had looked for her everywhere, sought out the sound of her voice. Part of himself hating that Ollie was the one to make her laugh like that. It was devasting, confusing, and pathetic.

The first day of a race weekend was wrapping up and sweat seemed to cling to him stubbornly no matter how many times he dumped water over his head. His eyes, as always stuck on her and how she smiled up at his friend. He didn’t know what made him ask when Ollie walked up to him, maybe it was the heat or the exhaustion but the words slipped out regardless.

“Do you like her?”

Ollie blinked at him, his cheeks red from the heat. “What?”

Kimi felt childish. They weren’t in primary school but the way his stomach was erupting in butterflies at the mere thought of even holding her hand made him feel like a kid. “You know,” he gestured to her.

Looking over his shoulder in confusion, Ollie spotted who Kimi was talking about and his eyes widened before whipping back around. “No, ew. I mean, she’s lovely. But no.” He then narrowed his eyes as he caught Kimi smile faintly. “Hang on a minute.”

The Italian’s face dropped, not realising he was grinning slightly but he couldn’t help the surge of relief he felt. “What?”

“Do you like her?”

Kimi laughed, trying to brush off the claim but his friend saw through the rouse easily and he wasn’t sure he liked the look that bloomed on Ollie’s face. Not a moment later, Ollie called her over and Kimi felt his stomach drop.

“Wait what—“

“I’m having to do some extra interviews after this, some stuff for Haas. Are you okay if Kimi gives you a ride back to the hotel?”

She nodded, patting Ollie on the arm. “Yeah, that’s fine. Go have fun.”

With a wink in Kimi’s direction, Ollie took off, leaving Kimi to fend for himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank him or kill him for throwing such an opportunity at him. But opportunity for what? He couldn’t just assume she was interested.

There were small moments he considered, but he was sure he was just being delusional. That she was just being nice. It would be presumptuous of him to think anything could take place, but that small voice in his head urged him to at least try.

Rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, he met her eyes once before looking away. It wasn’t like she was necessarily intimidating, but he felt overwhelmed when he got to be close to her. “Let me get changed and then we can go, is that alright?”

She shrugged a shoulder impartiality, casual as ever and he wondered what mental training she went through to always be so calm. No matter what seemed to happen, she kept a level head. She was just…calm. Maybe that’s why the bunny walked up to her so easily, he saw somewhere that animals were really good at reading people and he knew she must’ve had a heart of gold.

“I’ll be quick.” He muttered, turning away and immediately kicking himself. Really? Was that all that he had? He had flirted with girls numerous times with a sense of ease that often surprised himself but he was suddenly robbed of all his language capabilities when it came to her.

She watched him walk away, feeling her heartbeat in her ears and every nerve ending felt on fire. If it weren’t for the wall she was leaning against, she was sure she would’ve fell to the floor.

Panic. She was panicking. And she was going to kill Ollie next time she saw him. The bastard knew she’s had a small crush on Kimi for the past year and then he goes and does this? No warning? Ollie was fully aware how she needed time to prep for things or else she would spiral.

Kimi was going to be giving her a ride back to the hotel. Her mind spun with hopeless longing and all the what if’s, not that there would likely be any. Any time her and Kimi were alone together he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He wouldn't look at her, he’d barely utter a word, just…nothing. No inkling of interest beyond kindness and being friends by default through Ollie.

And it killed her. Even now, he seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of driving her. It was confusing, he didn’t used to be like this. He used to joke with her, be more carefree, let her in a little. Then one day she blinked and it was as if she was this thing he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. His texts became few and far between, he never called on a whim anymore, he just stopped. She tended to over think in general but it sent her down a rabbit hole of what did i do wrong?

No matter how many times she thought over their interactions, she couldn't think of anything to make him take such a big step back like that. Her mind would wander; maybe she was being too annoying, maybe she was too much, maybe she was too loud, maybe she was too pushy, all these maybes and she felt like she was going insane.

She really shouldn’t be surprised though, she wasn’t necessarily his type. Which, as much as she told herself not to, she compared herself to all the girls he had dated. Having to ground herself in reality that of course it wouldn’t be her. Because why on earth would it be?

Snapping out of her depressing line of thoughts, she watched Kimi approach. Freshly showered and in a new set of clothes with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He met her eyes once before looking away, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, suddenly not overly thrilled by the turn of events. Hopefully the car ride would be quick and the silence not too awkward. She wanted this over with so she could burrow in her hotel room to watch a rom-com and cry.

She followed Kimi to the car he had driven to the track that day, a nice sports car that she couldn’t even begin to fathom the cost of. It didn’t matter how long she had been friends with Ollie, she would never get used to the sheer show of wealth at these events.

Reaching for the door handle, she paused as another hand beat her to it instead, staring at Kimi dumbfounded as he opened the passenger side door for her. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he did gesture with his head for her to get in.

She reality checked the butterflies in her stomach quickly. He could not like her and still be a gentleman, there was no reason to look too deep into it. The leather was clearly expensive and the smell of Kimi’s cologne invaded her senses, smelling warm with a bit of spice and the way it made her head dizzy was a little concerning. No one should smell that good.

Sitting with bated breath, she watched as Kimi walked to the other side before sliding into his own seat. Not sparing her a glance as he got settled and the engine roared to life. Usually she was good with silence but for some reason when it came to the Italian race car driver, the quietness felt suffocating and the air was heavy,

Barely five minutes into the drive she tapped her knees and cleared her throat. Kimi didn’t do anything but raise a brow at her and kept his eyes on the road.

“Kimi?” He hummed in response. “Did I do something to make you hate me all the sudden?”

The way his eyes widened as he turned to look at her for a moment would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the way she felt nauseous as she asked.

“Che? I don’t hate you, why would you say that?”

Despite trying not to, the laugh that left her was painfully dry. “You act like you can’t stand me.”

“Why would you—“

“Kimi, this is the most you’ve spoken to me in months.”

His lips pressed together in a line as he drove, looking at her for another moment before forcing his eyes back on the road. After a moment he sighed, his voice coming out quiet. “I thought distancing myself would help.”

She stared at him, her mind not registering the words properly as she watched the street lights flicker over his face every few seconds. “Help?” Her own voice was a whisper, her heart beating too loudly in her ears and she barely heard herself. Kimi clenched his jaw, seeming to debate with himself as he thought about what to say next and she would’ve given anything to know what was going on in his head.

“Getting into things here is complicated,” he began, struggling a bit to communicate properly what he meant as if he was trying to tiptoe around something bigger. “And with Ollie I just thought it would be messy.”

“So you’ve been ignoring me because of Ollie?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” The look she gave him screamed otherwise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “No, non è quello che intendevo. Perché è così difficile?” He mumbled to himself before finally turning to look at her. He took a deep breath and she steeled herself for the potential blow to heart he might be about to deliver.

“I like you, tesoro. A lot, but with Ollie being your best mate and the way schedules work I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

It was as if the world had been yanked from under her feet before the ground came rushing back again, her heart stumbling over itself at the confession. The pure shock of adrenaline and joy mixed with something akin to annoyance bubbled in her throat and she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “Why would Ollie have anything to do with whether or not you could be with me? I like you too, Kimi. But I’ve been sitting here for months thinking you couldn’t stand me. Even if it was just as friends, that hurt.”

The look on his face made her want to take back all of her words but she knew she meant them. He looked in anguish, hating himself for putting up the walls he had been so keen on keeping in place. Taking it upon himself to protect everyone from any potential emotional damage. She understood the complexities of getting into a relationship with a friend, and how if they go wrong it could blow up in everyone's face. But to not even try? And to just drop off the face of the earth? It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, tesoro.” Before she could register her next thought, Kim’s hand reached up and cradled the side of her face, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone as he looked her over like he was trying to memorise every detail. “I love being around you but it felt like torture knowing I couldn’t do anything.”

Leaning into his touch, she shook her head. “Who said you couldn’t?”

“Cara Mia,” his voice was low, as if in warning and he looked at her pointedly.

“Kimi you can’t focus on all the possible negatives, would it really kill you if we kissed?” At her words, his eyes flicked down to her mouth as his hand slid lower to cup the side of her neck, just slightly bringing her closer. She reached her own hand up to gently take hold of his wrist, eyes meeting his and they seemed to glow in the night. “Ti voglio, Kimi.”

His mouth met hers with such urgency one would think he was a man starved for her touch. The feeling of his soft but slightly chapped lips was enough to drive her to insanity and she could cry at the relief she felt. Finally. Finally, they were giving in. He didn’t need to be scared. All they had to do was take it day by day and she was willing to fight for this with him through the fires of hell if it came to that.

The kiss was messy, fueled by months of longing and miscommunication. Missed opportunities and second guesses. Two lonely, young people who wanted to find a sense of security in one another and they were finally getting a taste of what heaven was like. Teeth colliding and the feeling of his mouth against hers, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth and her hands dug in his hair. Desperate and devastating and neither would ever get enough. They never wanted to. Each touch was electric and they kept chasing that high, shedding any restraints previously held.

It would be hell to deal with sometimes, but they’d make it work.

“Vita mia,” he said it against her mouth, against her neck, he’d pepper it between each breath and kiss as if she was the air that sustained life. “Mi dispiace, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, I know.” She kissed him again, expressing everything she wasn’t capable of saying effectively. Wishing she could talk to him freely in his native tongue. Ever since the first night she met him she started to practise. He was everything and more to her.

“Vita mio,” the words barely had time to swim in the air before he was all over her.

tag list; @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @hearts4acemyluv

pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged in further work!

working on part three of “i was all over her” so stay tuned today! hope y’all enjoy it <3

part one and two linked here!

in the meantime here’s one of my favorite pictures of oscar

the butterfliessssss

hey! please could you write a 🔥 charles leclerc

7 MINUTES | CL16

an: this celeb really has me writing for people i've never written for but here you go! rushed and not proof read lol i wanna go to bed

summary: 7 minutes in heaven, max's sister, what could possibly go wrong?

warnings: heavy make out session

wc: 3k

You were sitting on the edge of the couch, legs tucked under you, watching as the last of the sunlight fades beyond the horizon. The air still smells like autumn — damp leaves, bonfires, that kind of thing — and you can hear the muffled voices of the boys from the kitchen. They’d been drinking for hours, celebrating the end of the season. Your brother, Max , the life of every gathering, was at the centre of it all, recounting the race from last weekend like a war story for those who had missed his and Lando’s close race.

Inside the living room, the atmosphere was cosy but charged, the kind of energy that only came when the season was over and there was nothing left to lose. Someone had opened a second bottle of whiskey, and you were pretty sure it was Charles. He was sprawled out on the recliner, arm dangling over the side, his laugh loud and carefree. Across from him, Lando and Daniel were huddled together on the floor, passing around a bowl of chips like they were planning something.

Then it happened. Daniel’s eyes lit up, his smirk growing wider as he sat up straighter. "You know what we haven’t done in ages?" he said, voice slick with mischief. "Seven minutes in heaven."

You laughed, and so did a few others, but there was  that undeniable flicker of curiosity that ran through the group of you that were in the room. This was a game you used to play in secondary school, maybe year nine if you were brave, but you’d all grown up since then. Still, the alcohol had loosened everyone’s reservations, and you could see the suggestion hanging in the air, waiting to catch fire.

“Oh, come on, we’re not twelve,” Max groaned, walking in at the perfect time but even you could see a spark in his eyes that said he was not really protesting.

Daniel shrugged, still grinning. "Exactly, we’re not twelve. So why not make it interesting?"

You could feel a ripple of unease and excitement in your chest as you glanced around the room. People were starting to perk up now, their curiosity mirroring yours. And before you knew it, Carlos’ empty beer bottle was in the middle of the floor, everyone forming a loose circle around it like it was an unspoken agreement.

Your close friend Lu, had chosen to go first, the bottle spun lazily, catching the dim light from the string of bulbs hanging above the living room. The room felt smaller now, more intimate, as if everyone’s breath was synchronised, waiting for fate to land on someone. Your stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and excitement, and you wonder if anyone else felt the same fluttering tension.

It slowed, dragging the moment out. The neck wobbled a few times, then finally came to rest, pointing directly at Lando.

She grinned, all too pleased with the outcome. “Guess I’m first,” she said, pushing herself up from the floor with the grace of someone who was not nearly as drunk as the rest of them. She casted a sideways glance at Lando, who just smirked and shrugged, ready for whatever came next.

You felt Max’s eyes on you from across the circle, and you shot him a quick look — the kind that said, This is ridiculous, right? But he just smirked, raising his beer in mock salute, clearly enjoying the chaos that was about to unfold.

“Okay, Lando,” Lu teaseed, leaning toward him with a playful tilt of her head. “I think you’re my lucky partner.”

Lando let out a fake groan, but there was a spark in his eyes as he got up. “You sure? I mean, I could take a rain check…”

Everyone laughed, the tension breaking slightly as Lando and Lu disappeared into the hallway, heading for the coat closet like this is still some high school party. But the tension crept right back in as the door closed behind them.

It had only been thirty seconds, but it felt like the room was holding its breath. You sat there, heart racing even though it was not your turn, and wondered what happened next. You’d known these people for years — grown up alongside a few of them, watched your brother and his friends live out their reckless racing dreams — but now the whole vibe had shifted. It was almost like you were all teetering on the edge of something new, something dangerous.

The minutes dragged on. The muffled laughter from behind the door made everyone exchange knowing looks, but no one said anything. Then Lu’d voice called out, “Time’s up!” and the door swung open.

Lu stepped out first, her hair slightly tousled, a grin on her face like she’d gotten away with something. Lando followed, looking slightly flushed but otherwise composed. “Well,” he said, glancing around the room, “that was... enlightening.”

Everyone laughed again, a little louder this time, but you could feel the anticipation growing. Lu took her seat, and Daniel leaned forward, reaching for the bottle with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Your turn, mini Verstappen,” he said, and suddenly all eyes were on you. When Daniel had offered this game, you briefly had the idea that he was trying to pester Max, making him watch his little sister go into a small room with one of the guys of the paddock. In a room where he couldn’t do anything to stop anyone. So when Daniel passed you the bottle, you knew exactly that was his intention.

You froze for half a second, trying to brush off the nervous thrill that shot through you. “Oh no, not me,” you started to protest, but you knew it was too late. The game had a life of its own now.

The bottle clinked as you gave it a half arsed spin, and you swore it felt like the world slowed down again. The air was thick with curiosity, everyone waiting to see who fate would pick this time.

And then it stopped. Right on Charles.

You glanced up, locking eyes with him. Charles Leclerc, your brother’s biggest rival, the one who you definitely should never get with, the one who’s always wound up your brother, who knew more than he let on. His brow quirked up, just slightly, and his lips curled into a soft, unreadable smile.

For a moment, the world felt too small, the air too warm. Daniel chuckled, almost as if he had planned it. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Charles stood up, and before you even realised it, you were on your feet too, heart pounding in your throat. You forced a laugh, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the weight of every gaze on your back as you followed him toward the hallway.

Then Max shot up, “She can’t go in there with him, come on mate.” He said looking at Charles then at the rest of the group whose eyes were too locked on you and Charles. “That’s my little sister.” 

As you opened your mouth to reply, Lando stood up and looked at Max. “The rules are the rules, and unfortunately for you the rules mean your sister needs to go into that closet with Charles.” Lando then towards Max and pushed him back down onto the floor where he was previously sat. A small laugh went through the group as they looked back at you and reminded you to go towards the closet.

The door was barely closed when the silence hit. Charles leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his green eyes scanning your face. "So," he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness, making sure no one could hear, "seven minutes."

You swallowed, leaning against the opposite wall, unsure of what to say. It felt like the world outside had faded, the only sound was the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears. There was something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been there for longer than you’d like to admit, but neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it. Until now.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, “what do we do with them?”

The air inside the closet felt thicker than it should, the dim light from the hallway casting just enough of a glow under the door to catch the intensity in Charles’ eyes. Your back pressed against the wall, and you could hear your own breath coming a little too fast, the silence between you loaded with all the things neither of you had said until now.

Charles took a slow step forward, closing the distance, his presence filling the small space. He was not touching you yet, but it felt like he was everywhere, the heat radiating from him making your pulse race. His eyes flickered over your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but you didn’t give him one. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the game, or maybe it was something you’d been pretending not to feel for a long time.

His hand came up, brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. Then, in a sudden, fluid motion, he cupped your face, pulling you toward him. His lips crashed against yours, firm but not forceful, and it was like every thought in your head vanished, replaced by the sheer intensity of the moment.

You responded immediately, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back, your whole body pressing against his as if you were trying to make up for lost time. The world outside the closet didn’t exist anymore — it was just the two of you, tangled up in each other. His lips are soft but urgent, like he’d been holding this back for far too long.

He pulled back just enough for a sharp breath, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was rough, low, like he’d barely be able to keep it together. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, mon ange” he murmured, his lips brushing yours again, making your heart skip a beat.

You smiled against his mouth, your voice barely a whisper. “Then why didn’t you?”

His hands slid down your waist, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he leant in again, his lips tracing a path along your jaw. “Didn’t think it was a good idea,” he admitted softly between kisses, his mouth now teasing the skin just beneath your ear, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. “Still don’t,” he added with a soft chuckle, but there was no trace of hesitation in the way he was kissing you now.

“Why?” you whispered, trying to suppress a moan as you tugged him closer, lost in the moment, your mind spinning, body pressed tight against his. The feel of his hands, the taste of whiskey on his lips, the way your bodies fit together in this impossibly small space—it was all overwhelming, intoxicating. Every kiss was hungrier than the last, his fingers gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away, but neither of you were going anywhere.

“Because now I’ve had you once, I’m going to want you forever.” He replied in a raspy voice.

The sound of footsteps passing in the hallway broke through the haze for just a moment, but Charles didn’t stop, his kisses trailing down your neck as his hands tightened their hold on you, and you realised how badly you’d wanted this too.

The footsteps faded, but the sound barely registered. All you could focus on was Charles — the way his lips moved against your skin, the heat of his hands gripping your waist like he’d been starving for this. Each kiss felt more urgent, more desperate, and you let yourself fall into it, the thrill of finally crossing a line you didn’t know you’d been tiptoeing around for so long.

Your fingers slid under his shirt, grazing the smooth skin of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as his breath hitched. That small reaction sent a surge of confidence through you, and you pulled him even closer, wanting more, needing more. He groaned softly, his hands travelling up your sides, fingers digging in as if he was trying to ground himself in the reality of this moment.

“I didn’t think you—” His words were cut off by another kiss, deeper this time, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in. You weren’t sure what he was going to say, but it didn't matter. The way his body was pressed against yours told you everything.

It was electric — the feeling of his lips parting against yours, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss deepened, growing more intense, more heated. You lost track of time in the tangle of it all, your bodies moving together like they’d been waiting for this, like this is what they were meant for. Every second felt like it was teetering on the edge of control, the space between you disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place.

Charles broke away, panting, his forehead pressed against yours again. His voice is ragged, low and strained with want. “You... really have no idea how hard it’s been, pretending like this wasn’t... exactly what I’ve wanted.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the heat rise in your chest as his words sank in. You reached up, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb, heart pounding in your ears. “Then stop pretending.”

Something shifted in his gaze, something raw and powerful. His lips crashed back against yours with renewed intensity, a fire now blazing between you, the last of any hesitation burned away. His hands roamed freely now, gripping, pulling, like he was making up for all the times he’d held back. Your back pressed harder into the wall, but you didn’t care. You were lost in the feel of him, in the way his lips trailed down to your collarbone, in the sound of his breath ragged against your skin.

Your name left his lips in a whisper, like a prayer, like it had been waiting there for years, and hearing it sent a thrill through you. You pulled him closer, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, wanting to feel every inch of him. His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch scorching as his fingers trail up your back, sending sparks down your spine as he played with your bra.

“You are heavenly,” he breathed against your neck, and you could feel the heat of his words, the truth of them, in every kiss, every touch. “Utterly heavenly.”

He’d said you hadn’t known how long he’d needed this but you did. Because now that you were here, with him, you realise you’d been wanting it too — maybe even longer than he had.

Just as his lips found yours again, there was a sharp knock on the closet door, startling you both. Daniel’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, cut through the haze. “Time’s up, lovebirds. Don’t make me open this door.”

You froze, breath caught, the spell broken for a split second. Charles chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours again, his breathing still heavy. “Guess we’ll have to hit pause.”

Your heart raced as you untangled yourselves, but before you could step back, he pulled you in for one last lingering kiss, softer this time, like a promise.

“Don’t think this is over, mon ange,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Not even close.”

You grinned, your pulse still pounding as you tried to pull yourself together. “I’m counting on it.”

Charles let out a soft chuckle, his voice low and husky. "You should probably go first."

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

His eyes flickered down to himself, and he smirks, a little sheepishly. "Because if I walk out there like this..." He gestured toward his jeans, and you couldn’t help but notice the tension brewing once more. "Let’s just say it’s gonna be obvious what we were doing in here, and Max might not be too happy."

Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you bit back a smile. “Right.”

Charles stepped forward again, fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his gaze locked on yours. "Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you out there."

You nodded, still feeling the lingering heat between you, but you straightened your shirt and smoothed your hair as best you can, trying to act like you weren’t just tangled up with him in the small, dark closet. When you felt composed enough, you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Immediately, all eyes were on you. Lando was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who’s back from heaven,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he took in your slightly dishevelled appearance. His eyes narrowed as he studied you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You look... flustered, mini Verstappen.”

Your face burned, and you weren't too sure if it was from the kiss or from the fact that your brother’s friends could read you way too well. “Shut up, Lando,” you muttered, pushing past him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

Just as you make it to the edge of the living room, Max’s voice cuts through, louder than anyone else in the room, as if he was just realising something. "Wait a minute. Where’s Charles? Why are you coming out first?"

You froze, and everyone turned to look toward the hallway. As if on cue, Charles stepped out a beat later, looking a little too composed compared to you, though he quickly raked a hand through his hair as if to play it off. His shirt was untucked at the back, and there was a slight flush to his face, but he managed to pull himself together.

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking between the two of you, arms still crossed. "You two weren’t... actually doing anything, were you?" He tilted his head, trying to sound casual but clearly fishing for answers.

Charles shot you a quick glance, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. "Don’t worry, man," he said, walking past your brother and clapping him on the shoulder. "We were just... getting to know each other better."

the end.

can confirm!! flailing works!

So, FYI you guys, sometimes if you go to your favorite writers and flail at them a lot about how much you love their fics with lots of specific examples, they will let you read thousands of words of their unpublished WIPs and you can flail even more. Also sometimes after that you get to be friends, too, and help them come up with ideas. And vice versa! This is pretty much the best thing in the world and it is called fandom.

MASTER LIST

requests; open! the drivers above are who i’m most likely to write about but depending on the request i’m open to ideas!

guide: - angst • fluff * smut

OSCAR PIASTRI | 81

i was all over her pt.1 -

summary; childhood best friends riddled with missed opportunities. oscar makes the mistake of introducing you to his new teammate who’s known to be a player.

i was all over her pt.2 -

summary; lando and y/n relationship is on the rocks. y/n either makes the worst or best decision of her life. oscar is losing it and has a secret habit of street racing?

i was all over her pt.3 - * (• if you squint)

summary; tensions are at an all time high between the mclaren drivers. y/n makes a choice. lando gets punched, both by reality and a friend.

KIMI ANTONELLI | f4

wishful thinking • (a sprinkle of -)

summary; kimi has had a bit of a thing for ollie’s best friend for a while now, only issue is, is that she’s under the impression he hates her guts.

oh no oh no oh no no no no no

CHICAGO PT.2 | OP81

an: let's go! i'm trying to post all of these before i go to bed tonight lol but lets get ready to get some hearts broken eheh. i think there may be 3/4 parts idk just yet.

wc: 5.7k

part one

The sound of bustling in the motorhome didn’t register in Oscar’s mind as he sat at his desk, eyes glued to the telemetry data on his screen, but none of it made sense. The numbers, usually so clear and precise, now blurred together into meaningless patterns. The quiet hum of machinery that typically soothed him seemed distant, as if he were underwater, everything muted and detached. His mind wasn’t here, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull it back to the present.

The knock on the door was soft but insistent, pulling him out of his trance. Oscar blinked, his focus slowly drifting back to the now, but the heavy feeling in his chest remained.

“Mate, you got a minute?” Logan’s voice was casual, but the concern in his tone was unmistakable. Oscar didn’t need to look up to know that his friend was already studying him, reading the signs of whatever was weighing him down. Logan was perceptive like that, always had been.

Oscar gestured half-heartedly toward the chair across from his desk, sitting up straighter as if trying to shake off the cloud that had followed him back from Chicago. Logan didn’t say anything at first as he crossed the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. When he finally sat, his eyes were sharp, the silence thick between them. It wasn’t the usual easy going conversation they often shared over race stats or banter about rival teams. This was different.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Logan began, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken. “Ever since you got back from Chicago... something’s been off, Osc.”

The words hit like a slow burn, and Oscar’s defences rose instinctively. His brows furrowed as he turned back to the screen, fingers tapping at the keyboard in a weak attempt to look busy. “What do you mean, ‘off’? I’ve been handling everything.” He gestured vaguely at the data. “I haven’t fallen below fifth. We’ve hit every target these past few races.”

Logan didn’t bite, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s not about the numbers, mate. It’s you. You’ve been distracted. Hell, I’m not even on your team, and I can see it. Everyone can.”

Oscar shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The words stung, not because they weren’t true, but because they were hitting at something he hadn’t wanted to confront. He’d been slipping, that much was clear. The cracks in his focus, his drive, were spreading wider each day, and it had all started with her.

Logan leaned forward, his voice dropping to a softer, more concerned tone. “Look, I’m not here to have a go at you. But I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s eating you up. You’ve been different, Oscar. It’s like part of you never came back from Chicago. You stayed there for three weeks more than necessary and none of us heard from you.”

Chicago. Her.

The mention of the city made Oscar’s stomach twist, and he could already feel the familiar tightness in his chest as thoughts of her rushed to the forefront of his mind. Her face, her voice, the way she had looked at him with those dark, knowing eyes—it was all-consuming.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Oscar muttered, his voice sharper than intended. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension there, like a coil that had been winding tighter and tighter ever since his plane touched down in England.

Logan didn’t flinch at the harsh tone. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying Oscar carefully. “Buddy, you need to talk about it. You’re spiralling. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

There was a long pause as Oscar wrestled with himself, torn between shutting down the conversation or finally letting some of it out. He had been bottling it all up for weeks now, but maybe that’s why he felt so lost. The confusion, the obsession—it was suffocating him, and Logan, of all people, could see that.

Oscar sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and letting his gaze drop to the floor. “I met someone in Chicago,” he finally admitted, the words coming out quieter than he’d expected. 

Logan didn’t respond immediately, waiting for Oscar to continue.

“She’s... something else,” Oscar said, his voice softening as he spoke her name. He could still picture her so vividly—the way her lips had curved into that intoxicating smile, the way she’d held him like he was the only man in the room. “She’s got this way about her, you know? It’s like... everything fades when she’s around. Nothing else matters. She’s got this kid. She’s 7.”

There was a weight in his words, a truth that hung between them. He could feel Logan watching him closely, but he couldn’t stop himself now. The floodgates had opened.

“I told her I’d leave everything for her,” Oscar admitted, his voice breaking slightly as the confession slipped out. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt warring inside him. “My job, my life here... I told her I’d walk away from it all if she asked.”

Logan’s expression shifted, surprise flickering in his eyes before he quickly composed himself. He let out a low whistle, leaning forward in his chair. “You told her that?”

Oscar nodded, feeling the heat of shame rise in his chest. Saying it out loud made it sound even more reckless than it had felt in the moment. “Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just... she makes me feel like that. Like I’d do anything for her.”

Logan was silent for a moment, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the arm of the chair. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but firm. “Look, I get it. We’ve all met someone who makes us feel like we’re the centre of the universe. But, mate, you barely know this woman. And now you’re ready to drop everything?”

Oscar swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. He didn’t have an answer, not one that made sense anyway. She had entered his life like a storm, leaving everything in disarray, and he hadn’t cared. He had let her, and wanted her to. She had stirred something in him he hadn’t even known existed, and now he couldn’t shake it.

“I don’t know what it is about her,” Oscar muttered, his voice almost pleading as if Logan could somehow make sense of it all. “She’s just... got this pull. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt.”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, but his concern deepened. “It sounds like she’s got you hooked, mate. Too hooked. This kind of obsession—it’s dangerous. And you’ve been off ever since. That’s what worries me.”

Oscar felt his stomach churn. He knew Logan was right. He had been different—distant, consumed by thoughts of her, unable to focus on anything else. Even his work, which had always been his lifeline, felt like it was slipping away from him, second to her.

“I just—” Oscar sighed, slumping in his chair. “I don’t want to lose her. I don’t even know if she feels the same way, but I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like... she’s got a part of me now, and I don’t know how to get it back.”

Logan leaned forward, placing a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Listen to yourself, Osc. You’ve only known her for what, a few weeks? And she’s already got you ready to throw your entire life away. Something you’ve worked for since you were four. That’s not love, mate. That’s something else.”

Oscar bit his lip, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. Deep down, he knew Logan was right. She wasn’t just a woman he had fallen for—she was a temptation, a trap that he couldn’t seem to break free from. She had woven herself into his life so seamlessly, made him feel so needed, so wanted, that he had willingly given up pieces of himself to her.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Oscar whispered, the vulnerability in his voice undeniable. “I can’t just... let her go.”

Logan’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it out right now. But you need to get your head back in the game, Oscar. This isn’t you. Don’t let her take everything.”

The room felt heavier, the weight of Logan’s words pressing down on him. Oscar nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure how to follow through. How could he just let go of the woman who had consumed his every thought, his every breath?

As Logan stood and walked to the door, Oscar sat still, staring at his phone, the glow of her name soft against the harsh, sterile light of the room he was in. His thumb hovered over the screen, the pulse of his indecision throbbing in his chest. Just one call—one word from her, and all the unease would dissolve like sugar in water. It would be so easy to surrender, to let her voice wash over him, to fall back into the haze of her charm where the world outside ceased to exist.

But Logan’s words lingered, seeping into the cracks of his resolve, grounding him in a way he hated. He had always been composed, controlled—a man who built his life on precision. The whirring of engines, the hum of data, the rhythm of speed—it all made sense. He lived in a world of absolutes, of things you could measure, things you could control.

But she... she was none of that. She was chaos wrapped in beauty, temptation cloaked in warmth, her presence like a drug that dulled every other sensation. She had unravelled him, bit by bit, with every glance, every touch. And now, the lines between reality and illusion blurred, leaving him lost in a maze he had no desire to escape.

What am I doing? The question rose up, unbidden, and for a moment, it startled him. He clenched his fists, the tension in his body coiling tighter, fighting against the pull she had on him. He had never felt like this before. The intensity of it scared him. He was losing himself, and he could feel it, piece by piece. He had always prided himself on keeping his emotions in check, but with her, it was different.

It was like being caught in a rip current, the deeper he was pulled, the more he surrendered. But beneath the rush of desire, there was something else, something colder—a whisper of doubt, like the first cracks in ice before it gives way.

She makes me feel alive, he told himself, over and over again, as if the words were a balm. She makes me feel important. And hadn’t he been looking for that? Searching for something, someone, to break through the monotony of his life? She had given him that, hadn’t she?

But Logan’s voice broke through again, quieter this time. Mate, you barely know her. Something’s off...

Oscar exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration burning under his skin. Barely know her... The truth of it stung. He barely knew her, yet he had offered her everything—his time, his thoughts, his heart, as if it were hers to take. He had let her seep into the very fabric of his life, allowing her to become more than a passing fling. But was she real? Or was she just an illusion, a carefully crafted mask she wore to lure him deeper into her world?

What if I’m just another name in a long list of men who’ve been pulled into her orbit? What if I’m nothing more than a distraction for her, the way she’s become everything to me?

His heart rebelled against the thought. The memories flooded back—the way she smiled when they were alone, the tenderness in her voice when she spoke about her daughter. He had seen vulnerability in her, glimpsed something fragile beneath the surface. That had to be real. Didn’t it?

But then there was the other side of her, the woman who seemed to know exactly how to touch him, how to draw him closer, how to make him feel like he was the centre of her universe. That part of her felt rehearsed, calculated, and yet, he’d wanted it, needed it. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him that way, made him feel seen, made him feel like more than just a cog in a machine.

She makes me feel alive, he reminded himself again, but the thought rang hollow this time, brittle like old paper, crumbling under the weight of doubt.

Logan’s words whispered again, echoing in his mind: That’s not love, mate. That’s something else.

What was it then? Lust? Obsession? Some dark need for validation that he had been too blind to see before? He didn’t want to believe that. He wanted to believe that she was different, that she was something real in a world where everything else felt like a blur of races, schedules, and deadlines. She had lit a fire in him, one that had been smouldering in the background for years, and now it was roaring out of control. But was it burning too bright, too fast?

How long can you live in the flames before they consume you?

Oscar closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him. He was tired—tired of the back-and-forth, tired of the sleepless nights where he lay awake, thinking of her, of her body against his, of the promises she never made but that he so desperately wanted her to keep.

His fingers hovered over the phone again, and the temptation surged back, stronger than before. He could call her. Just hear her voice. Just feel that rush of adrenaline, of desire, wash over him once more. It would be easy. So easy.

But then what? Another night of chasing after a ghost? Another day spent in the fog of her memory, half-present, while the rest of his life slipped through his fingers? How long could he keep living like this, torn between two worlds—the one where he was a man with responsibilities, and the one where he was drowning in her?

Logan was right. The thought was bitter, but undeniable. She wasn’t just a woman. She was a temptation. A temptation he had willingly fallen into, knowing full well he might not find his way back. She had hooked him with her beauty, her mystery, and he had followed her blindly, like a moth drawn to a flame.

But now, the flame was burning him.

I can’t keep this up, he thought, the realisation settling in like a cold weight in his chest. I can’t keep pretending that I’m in control. He wasn’t. He hadn’t been since the moment he first saw her.

He opened his eyes, staring down at the phone, the glow of her name flickering like a distant beacon. He wanted her. He wanted to lose himself in her, to feel that rush, that overwhelming intensity that only she could give him. But at what cost?

How much of yourself are you willing to lose?

He couldn’t answer that question, not yet. But the fear had taken root. And for the first time, Oscar wasn’t sure if he could pull himself out.

His finger hovered over her name one last time before he closed the screen. He set the phone down on the desk, his heart pounding, his hands trembling with the weight of the choice he hadn’t yet made.

________________________________

The heat of the paddock pressed down like a weight, thick and relentless, even in the shadows of the race garages. Oscar found it hard to breathe, the air stifling despite the constant hum of engines and chatter from the pit crews. The familiar rhythm of race day—engines roaring, mechanics fine-tuning, the distinct smell of fuel in the air—had always given him a sense of purpose. Today, it felt foreign, distant, like something he could only touch through a fog.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe of the driver’s lounge, his arms crossed over his chest, trying to focus on the task at hand. Lando sat across from him, casual and relaxed, his racing suit half unzipped and tied around his waist. There was something effortless about him—always had been. He was the kind of driver who could flick the switch on and off, the kind who could walk into a room and instantly adapt, no matter the chaos surrounding him.

“Thinking of bringing my girlfriend to one of these soon,” Lando said, his voice light, as if he’d been mulling it over quietly for a while. He didn’t look at Oscar directly as he spoke, just stared at the ground, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Oscar blinked, the words barely registering at first. He’d known Lando for two years now, but this—this was new. Girlfriend?

“What? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Oscar said, his voice sharper than he intended, caught off guard by the admission.

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as though it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t really talked about her. We’ve been together for almost a year now, but... I dunno, it didn't feel like the right time to mention it.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed. “A year?” He leaned in, the disbelief clear in his voice. “We’ve been on the same team for two years, and you never said a word.”

Lando shrugged, his tone casual, but there was a deeper emotion beneath it—something careful, deliberate. “It’s not that I didn’t want to, mate. It’s just... well, there’s more to it.”

“What do you mean?” Oscar asked, his frustration masked as curiosity, though he could feel his chest tightening with a strange mix of envy and confusion. How had Lando managed to keep this from him for so long?

Lando hesitated for a moment, then exhaled, as if deciding to let Oscar in on something personal, something he hadn’t shared with many. “I met her last year when I was over in the States for an off-season event. We hit it off, but... she’s got a kid, you see? A little boy. I didn’t want to rush her into anything—didn’t want to throw her into this circus, you know? Not with a kid in the mix.”

Oscar’s heart stuttered at the mention of the child, a sharp stab of familiarity hitting him square in the gut. The room felt like it was closing in, the air thick with too many connections he wasn’t ready to make. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure as Lando’s words sank in.

“I didn’t know,” Oscar muttered, his voice strained. “You’ve... you’ve never said anything.”

“I know,” Lando admitted, his voice softening. “I just didn’t want to make it a thing, you know? She’s great, but I didn’t want to put pressure on her with all this racing stuff. She’s already got enough on her plate being a mum, and I’ve been taking it slow, giving her space.”

Oscar sat there, staring at Lando, the room suddenly feeling too small, too stifling. The air seemed to thicken as Lando talked about his girlfriend— a woman he had met in America. A woman with a child. Seven years old.

The details felt like icy drops hitting the back of Oscar’s neck, one by one, sending shivers through him. It wasn’t just the facts aligning—it was something in the way Lando spoke, with that unguarded fondness, that struck a nerve. A year. A whole year.

“You say she’s got a kid?” Oscar repeated slowly, his voice barely masking the tremor that ran through it.

“Yeah, a little boy. He’s seven,” Lando continued, oblivious to Oscar’s growing unease. “I didn’t want to overwhelm her with the race scene too soon. It’s why I’ve kept it quiet.”

Oscar felt his stomach lurch as he tried to keep his composure, but his mind raced. A woman from America. A child. Seven years old. Her daughter was seven. Lea. Smart as a whip, she’d said, with that practised softness in her eyes, just like Lando described now with Olivia. His heart pounded in his chest, an eerie chill spreading through him.

He leaned back slightly, the world around him warping as Lando continued to talk, but Oscar barely heard the words anymore. His pulse thudded in his ears, thoughts colliding in a chaotic swirl. Could it be her? Could it really be the girl he fell for? No, that would be impossible. She was here, in his head, tangled up in his life. She had been real with him—or had she?

“We met in Chicago, actually,” Lando said, oblivious to Oscar’s unravelling thoughts. “At this Mclaren event. She wasn’t like anyone else. Just this—this energy, you know? And we hit it off right away. Kept things low-key because of her son, didn’t want to rush anything. But it’s been almost a year now, and I’m thinking it’s time.”

Oscar’s heart stopped for a moment. Chicago. He had met her in Chicago, too. Energy? Oh, she had that, alright. Enough to draw you in, wrap you up in her world, and leave you wanting more. The coincidences began to pile up, thick and heavy, until they felt like more than coincidences. He remembered the way she had smiled at him, that first night, like a predator sizing up prey. She’d told him about her daughter, her struggles, and he had believed it—every word.

No. It couldn’t be the same person. It couldn’t be her.

His throat tightened as he struggled to keep his face neutral, to not give away the storm raging inside him. “A whole year, huh?” Oscar asked, his voice strained.

Lando nodded, smiling with a warmth that twisted Oscar’s insides. “Yeah, mate. She’s amazing. I was scared to mention bringing her into this,” he gestured vaguely around the lounge, “you know how it can get, but I think she’s ready now. I’ve been careful, for her son’s sake. It’s important, you know? She’s... she’s been through a lot.”

Oscar swallowed hard. Been through a lot. The words echoed painfully. She had said the same thing about raising her daughter. Was it all a lie? His thoughts flashed back to the way she had let him in, made him feel like he was saving her from something. But now, it was all blurring—had any of it been real?

His hands shook, and he clenched them into fists, his mind racing as Lando’s story continued to spill out. Chicago. America. A year. A son. Not a daughter.

His mind latched onto that detail. A son. Lando said she had a son. She had told him she had a daughter. Lea, seven years old, smart as a whip. He could hear her voice in his head, could see the way her eyes softened when she spoke of her. Oscar gripped that fragment of information like a lifeline, reassuring himself that it couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be her.

It didn’t add up. It’s not her, he told himself. It can’t be.

But doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, relentless, seeping in like a slow poison. How well did he really know her? How many other things had she kept hidden behind that magnetic smile? He had never met her daughter—everything she had told him had been words, stories spun with precision, stories that had seduced him, trapped him. Stories that had hooked him.

“You alright?” Lando’s voice cut through the fog of Oscar’s spiralling thoughts.

Oscar blinked, realising he had been silent too long. His breath came out ragged, and he forced a quick smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just... tired, I guess. It’s been a long few weeks.”

Lando gave him a curious look but didn’t push. “I get it. Races can do that to you.”

Oscar nodded absently, but his mind was elsewhere, teetering on the edge of a terrible realisation. What if it was her? What if she had been playing him and Lando both? The weight of that possibility pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him. But even as the thoughts churned, he shook them off.

No. He refused to believe it. She had been real with him—he was sure of it. There had been something between them, something more than just lies. Hadn’t there?

And yet...

Lando was still talking, his voice now distant, almost as though he were speaking from another room. Oscar barely heard him. He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling, the creeping suspicion that gnawed at him. The pieces were too close, too similar. America. A child. A year. Chicago. A Mclaren event. All of it aligned in ways that made his skin crawl.

But no, he couldn’t let himself believe it. He wouldn’t believe it. She had been everything to him, had stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in years. That couldn’t just be a lie. He knew her—or at least, he thought he did.

He forced another smile, this one tighter, more forced. “I’m glad things are working out for you, man. Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going.”

Lando grinned, oblivious to Oscar’s internal struggle. “Yeah, I think so. I’m hoping to bring her to the next race—introduce her to everyone. You’ll love her. She’s got a way of making everyone feel like they’ve known her forever.”

Oscar’s heart clenched. Yeah, I bet she does, he thought, a bitter edge creeping into his mind. He could feel the walls closing in on him, the pressure building. He had to get out of there, had to breathe, had to escape this sudden storm of doubt.

“I’m sure she’s great,” Oscar said, standing up, trying to keep his voice steady. “Listen, I’ve gotta go check on something in the garage. I’ll catch you later?”

Lando nodded, giving Oscar a friendly wave as he walked out. “Yeah, man. See you around.”

As soon as Oscar was out of the room, he exhaled a long, shaky breath, leaning against the wall for support. His hands trembled as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the messages from her—ones filled with sweet promises, moments of intimacy, late-night confessions that now felt tainted.

Could she really be the same woman?

The thought consumed him, dark and insidious, but he crushed it before it could take root. No. It’s not her. He refused to believe it. He needed to believe that what he had with her was real. Whatever Lando was talking about—it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

But as he stood there, the buzzing world of this week’s Grand Prix rushing around him, Oscar couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that maybe, just maybe, he had been played.

And that thought—however fleeting—was enough to leave him feeling hollow.

Later that day Oscar sat in his driver’s room, the low hum of activity outside his door a distant murmur compared to the storm inside his head. Lando’s words still echoed, spinning around his mind like a relentless reel, the puzzle pieces so close yet too painful to piece together.

He stared down at his phone, thumb hovering over the message thread with her. He hadn’t spoken to her since he left Chicago, their relationship left hanging in the space between his job and the mess inside his head. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe Lando’s girlfriend, with her son and the whole year-long relationship, was someone entirely different. But the doubts had wormed their way deep, and he needed to hear her voice, needed her to soothe him, to say something that would erase the gnawing suspicion.

Before he could overthink it, he typed a message.

Oscar: Hey. Can we talk? I miss your voice.

He hit send, the message blurring on the screen as anxiety gripped him. He had barely taken a breath before the reply came through.

Her: I was just thinking about you, babe. Call me?

Without a second thought, he dialled her number, and the familiar ring seemed to both soothe and heighten his nerves at once. Then, she answered.

“Oscar,” her voice came through the phone, soft and inviting, that same melodic lilt that had hooked him from the beginning. “It’s so good to hear from you.”

Just hearing her say his name unravelled some of the tension in his chest. He sank back against the bed, running a hand through his hair, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, it’s good to hear your voice too. It’s been... a long couple of weeks.”

“Mm, I know,” she purred. “You sound tired. You’ve been working too hard.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, already feeling himself soften in her presence, even through the phone. God, she knew just how to make everything disappear. “It’s just... been crazy. Everything feels off lately.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before her voice dropped into that sweet, knowing tone, the one that always made him feel like she understood him in ways no one else did. “You’re carrying too much weight, Oscar. You always do. You need to let go. You’re doing everything you can, and more. But you can’t lose yourself to it, baby. You’re too important to let this job eat you alive.”

Her words felt like a warm balm over his frayed nerves, the weight of her attention drowning out the noise of everything else. “You always know what to say.”

“Of course I do,” she replied, her voice like honey, dripping with affection. “I know you, Oscar. Better than you think.”

That line caught him, a pang of guilt tugging at him. Did she really know him? Or was this just part of her game? The doubts flickered back to life, faint embers smouldering beneath the surface. “Yeah...”

But before the doubt could deepen, she cut in, her voice a low, sultry hum. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I miss that too, you know—hearing you talk. The way you think out loud when you’re frustrated. I miss all of it.”

His heart ached at that, and he could feel himself slipping again, the uncertainty clouding over. She made him feel seen, wanted, and even in the quiet moments of their conversations, she filled every gap, leaving him no room for doubt. “I don’t know,” he said, almost reluctantly. “Just been thinking about a lot of things. Lando was talking about his girlfriend today, and it just got me... I don’t know... thinking.”

Her voice remained smooth, steady, unbothered. “About what?”

“About us. About where this is going.”

There was a beat of silence, then her laugh—light, easy, intoxicating. “Oscar, baby. Why are you worrying about us? You know I’ve always got you, right?”

His chest tightened, but not in the same way it had earlier. Now it was different—like he needed her, like without her, the world wouldn’t make sense. “I know. I just... I miss you. It’s hard being so far away.”

“I miss you too,” she whispered, her voice sending a shiver down his spine. “I think about you all the time. I wish I could be there with you. You know, sometimes I imagine you dropping everything and just coming back to me. Forget the job. Forget the stress. You and me... we could make it work. You ever think about that?”

Oscar laughed softly, but there was a hollow edge to it. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve even joked about leaving my job for you.”

“And why shouldn’t you?” she teased, her voice wrapping around him like silk. “You don’t need that life to be happy, Oscar. You need something real. Something... deep. And I can give that to you.”

Her words sank into him, erasing every nagging thought that had been lingering. Every little doubt Lando’s conversation had planted in his mind vanished in the warmth of her voice. He imagined it—walking away from all of it, from the pressure, from the constant grind. He could be with her, the woman who made him feel alive in ways nothing else could.

He closed his eyes, her words echoing in his mind. “You’re right,” he murmured, the walls between them crumbling. “You always know how to make everything better.”

“Good,” she said, her voice softening into something almost tender. “I like knowing you trust me. I’ll always be here for you, Oscar.”

He smiled, feeling the last of the tension slip away, the weight lifting from his shoulders. She was his anchor, his constant in the chaos. What had he been doubting? Of course it wasn’t her. He had been letting paranoia get the better of him.

“I wish you were here now,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a longing he couldn’t hide.

“I wish I was too,” she replied, her voice low, almost a whisper. “But I’ve got to go, I’ve got to pack.”

Oscar frowned slightly. “Pack? Where are you going?”

“A work trip,” she said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “I’ll be gone a few days. Nothing major. Just some business to take care of.”

His heart sank slightly, but he tried to hide it. “Where to?”

“New York, for a few meetings. I’ll miss you, though.”

The way she said it made him forget every other detail. Forget New York. Forget the meetings. It didn’t matter. She’d be back, and she’d be his again. “I’ll miss you too.”

“I know you will,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”

“Yeah,” Oscar replied, already aching for that next call. “Okay. Be safe.”

“I always am, baby,” she said, her voice soft and sultry once more. “Take care of yourself, alright? And don’t let that job pull you under.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, she hung up, leaving Oscar alone in his room again, but this time, he felt lighter. She had wiped away all the doubts, reassured him in a way only she could. Whatever worries Lando’s words had sparked—they were gone now.

She was his. She wasn’t playing him. She couldn’t be.

And as he lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, Oscar allowed himself to fall back into her web, his mind blissfully quiet, for now.

part three

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